Harry, The Master of Death
by Silaparie
Summary: Harry Potter killed Voldemort, but everyone he has ever cared about is dead. He travels back in time and kills a baby Voldemort to prevent the war completely... and somehow ends up being reborn as Tom Snape. AU, sevitus, time travel, reborn!Harry
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I do not own _Harry Potter_, obviously.**

**Warnings:** AU, sevitus, time travel, mild suicide themes, reborn!Harry, OOC Snape and some other characters, OCs, mentions of torture (nothing detailed)

**Summary:** Harry Potter killed Voldemort, but everyone he has ever cared about is dead. He travels back in time and kills a baby Voldemort to prevent the war completely... and somehow ends up being reborn as Tom Snape.

**A/N: Many thanks to amortencja – without her I wouldn't be publishing this today.**

**The first chapter should be up within a week. **

oxo

**Prologue**

_**Friday, 18th February 1927, Wool's Orphanage, London**_

_**Around 3AM**_

When you are an adult wizard in possession of an unbeatable wand and the Invisibility Cloak of Death himself, breaking into a muggle orphanage in the middle of the night is not that hard. Finding a one-and-a-half month old boy for whom you went over seventy years back in time is also easy. Killing him is a bit harder. You need to remind yourself that this child is the reason why you have lost everyone you have ever cared about. Just one _Avada Kedavra_, a short trip to some deserted place, another _Avada Kedavra_, and you will be free forever. Another world, a better world will begin – this time without you. And without _him_.

Looking at the small baby sleeping in the crib you notice the irony of the situation. But _you_ are not doing it for yourself. You need to do it so the others would live, so the world could be _whole _again.

"_Avada Kedavra_," you whisper for the first time in your life, pointing your old wand at the baby.

When the green light hits the target, the scar on your forehead explodes with pain so incredible that you want to scream, scream, _scream_ – yet no sound escapes your mouth. Every fibre of your being seems to be on fire and you forget where you are, _who_ you are... All you can think of is _end, end, need it to END!_

And then, after a second or a century, everything ends as suddenly as it began. There is a blackness and silence, a swirl of colour and voices you had once known but already forgotten, there are memories passing so fast you cannot touch them and endless hours of being-or-not-being and feeling safer and warmer than you can remember. There is nothingness and eternity, and a steady beat that soothes you and fills you with more love than you can hold, but there is also a gaping hole it cannot fill and you do not know what is true anymore and what is just an illusion.

And then, after a second or a century, everything ends as suddenly as it began. There is a coldness and noise, a swirl of colour and voices ringing in your ears, there are images passing so fast you have to close your eyes and scream, scream, _scream_ as loud as you possibly can. And there are warm, unfamiliar hands, and another pair of hands that promise safety, but you do not want to understand them, you want to be back where you can forget everything. You hear voices you heard there but you are too scared to listen to them now, and you scream so they would shut up and put you _back_.

And then, there is another pair of hands and you hear the voice you knew then and had known before, the voice that chills your blood and fills your heart with warmth. And you finally stop screaming and look up to see the face of your father, Severus Snape, who is positively beaming at you.

And you feel as scared as you have never felt before because nothing is _right_.

ooo

_**Thursday, 31st July 1980, Hog's Head inn, Hogsmeade**_

_**Around 10PM**_

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was tired. He had always thought Divination to be a rather useless subject and never had he planned to hire a new teacher after Professor Aldebaran's retirement – but then the news spread, and here he was, interviewing an applicant for the post of Divination teacher. The applicant was, however, the great-great-granddaughter of Cassandra Trelawney, so he had thought it might not be a waste of time. How wrong he was! She didn't seem to possess the slightest trace of the Seeing gift and and it didn't look like she would be a good teacher. Albus thanked her for her time and politely told her he didn't think she was suitable for the post and that the school won't continue with the subject after all. He turned to leave – but then, something happened, something he didn't expect.

And it must have been a real prophecy.

xxx

_The Master of Death approaches... thrice he died, thrice he lived, thrice he killed... the one who owns all the three... the one who knows, the one who sees, the one who speaks... praise his name, praise his deeds, praise his arrival... thrice will he be tried, and if he fails, the darkness will set upon the world for the third time... the Master of Death approaches..._


	2. Born Again

**Disclaimer: I do not own _Harry Potter_, obviously.**

**A/N: I would like to thank everyone who read the prologue, especially the ones that added my story to story alerts or favorites, and Creasia for her comment – and my friends who told me what they thought of the story via other means. Special thanks again go to amortencja – she is also responsible for pointing out a few of my typos. If anyone see any other mistakes in this chapter (or in the prologue, of course), I would be really grateful if you point them out – I try to make my story as free of mistakes as possible, but I know I don't notice everything, especially seeing as English is not my mother tongue.**

**The next chapter should be up within two weeks (probably earlier, but it's not certain, as I now have less time to write).**

oxo

**Chapter One:**** Born Again**

_**Saturday, 6th August 1983, Mandrake's Scream, London**_

_**Around 9PM**_

Regulus Black looked over the table at his friend. He could tell that something was bothering him, but did not have the slightest idea what it could have been. Thousands of possibilities were running through his head, but none of them sounded plausible. Problems at work? He was self employed and wouldn't really ask him for advice. Money, then? Too proud. Family affairs? Impossible, especially seeing as a week ago everything seemed to be all right. A fight with Sirius? Some kind of business? A plead for help? No, no, no...

"What is it, Severus?" he asked. Severus looked up from the half-full glass of wine he was fumbling with, a slight frown on his face.

"What is what?" he asked blankly in return. Regulus just shook his head.

"Severus, I'm not blind," he said. "And I know you didn't ask me to meet you only to chat – you never do that. I can see that you're really worried about something. What is it?"

Severus smiled wanly. "You know me too well," he said. His smile faded. "I actually need to apologise to you," he added seriously.

"What for?" Regulus was surprised – he couldn't think of anything that Severus would need to apologise to him for – and didn't think it would make him this worried.

"We – that is, Lily and I – made you a promise that we most probably won't keep, despite our previous intentions..." he trailed off.

Well, that was confusing. Severus truly _was_ worried about something. Something big. "What do you mean?" asked Regulus. "I don't even remember any promises."

Severus looked him straight in the eye, serious expression on his face. "We promised you that you're going to be a godfather to our third child. However, we decided we don't want any more children after all." There was something odd in Severus' voice, something he couldn't quite put a finger on.

"Never mind being a godfather, what happened? You seemed pretty set on on having three or four children, what made you change your minds?" Regulus was getting worried. It didn't seem like a kind of thing that would trouble Severus so much – unless it was his wife's decision and he disagreed with it, but no, it couldn't have been that. He would have been behaving differently then. And surely they would have settled their argument, not bring it out like that, without it being truly decided on. "Are the boys all right?" he added on impulse.

Severus dropped his gaze and sipped at his wine. "Jimmy is perfectly fine," he said slowly after a moment.

"But Tommy isn't?..." asked Regulus, dreading the answer. "What on earth happened?" But why would Severus avoid the subject for so long, instead of telling him right away? It wasn't his style. Something didn't quite add up here.

"Nothing happened," said Severus simply, an odd edge to his voice still there, now even more evident. He took another sip of wine. Regulus hoped he would elaborate, but no such luck.

"Then why would you scare me so?" he asked, feeling frustrated. "Severus, what is_ wrong_?"

Severus put his glass, now empty, on a table and stared at it for a moment in silence. Then, he sighed.

"I don't know," he said finally. He then shook his head slightly, as if to clear his thoughts and looked at Regulus a bit sadly. "What would you say about Tommy?" he asked.

"That he's a sweet, intelligent little boy", replied Regulus, confused. "Why?"

"A normal three year old?"

"Yes, of course. Why wouldn't he be? Do you have any problems with him? Is there something you're worried about?"

Severus sighed. "He's... different, you know?"

"What do you mean? I've never seen anything... odd about him."

Severus shook his head. "You're a busy man, you visit us too rarely to notice. But you're also a Healer-"

"Not a very good one," interrupted Regulus. "I've started working at Mungo's only a few months ago, I'm not exactly experienced. And I'm not specialised in treating children. If you need-"

"I'm not seeking any medical treatment for him, I only need your advice."

"If only I'm able to give any..."

"Thank you," said Severus gratefully.

"Don't thank me yet. So, what is it?"

"I... where should I start?" Severus looked at his glass briefly, before remembering that it was already empty. He took a deep breath. "Tommy has always been a quiet boy, much quieter than Jimmy. You must have seen it, and it seems like there is nothing wrong with it – there are lots of shy, quiet children – I used to be one as well. But Tommy... when he was an infant, he hardly ever cried, much more rarely that children normally do. We were concerned, but he was healthy. He didn't babble long, he learned how to speak very early. Now, he doesn't talk much – again, you must have noticed – and when he does, he seems more mature than Jimmy – have you noticed it?"

"Now that you mention it, he does sometimes seem to be a bit older than he is – but that's probably because he's always rather calm for a three year old," replied Regulus.

"Precisely! He usually is so calm, isn't he? He never throws tantrums, never cry for toys, never pouts... And whenever he plays with Jimmy, the way he acts – you would say that _he _is the older brother there."

"It is rather odd, indeed – but I don't think this is all that worries you, is it?"

"No, no, there is more." Severus sighed. "He also doesn't seem to sleep very well – we've been to Healers, but again, apparently there is nothing wrong. And before you ask – we put both boys to sleep at about eight. If he's having bad dreams – he won't talk to us about it. Whenever Jimmy wakes up at night and can't go back to sleep, he comes to us – Tommy never does that, even though we encouraged him to do so at any time he feels the need to. We don't know how else we could help him – and he's too young for any kind of a sleeping potion."

Regulus was thoughtful. "I don't know how to help you with this," he said. "But I will look into it and ask some of my colleagues for advice."

"Thank you," Severus gave a slight nod. He opened his mouth as if to speak again, but closed it without a word. Regulus looked at him closely.

"I'm listening," he said.

"I'm not sure how to say it, so it wouldn't seem..." Severus shook his head slightly. "It's just... You know, some children have over-active imagination, but in Tommy's case... At times I wonder if it's all there is. Sometimes it seems like- like he really _sees_ things that aren't there, or, I don't know, but it can't be that, can it? Sometimes he just acts so odd, I just don't know, and he _says _things. And..." He took a deep breath. "Yesterday... Yesterday, when I was outside with the boys, I caught him talking to a snake." At the lack of understanding at Regulus' face, he added, "I mean, in _parseltongue_."

Regulus gaped. "Are you sure? Maybe he was just hissing at it, you know how children are..."

Severus shook his head. "No, I don't think so, it didn't look like it."

"All right, if you're sure. Did you tell Lily?"

"No, and I don't know if I will – not yet, anyway. Maybe when he's a bit older. I don't think she would be comfortable with that... I mean, you know that she doesn't have a problem with Slytherin-"

"Seeing as she married one, I would say so," smiled Regulus.

"Exactly. But still, for our son to have a gift that is considered to be dark – although I don't understand why would it be so – one that connects him to Salazar Slytherin and almost surely secures him a place in his house... I think she'd prefer not to know it yet, besides she would probably try to deny it, say that he was just playing, just like you said-"

"You're scared of her reaction?" guessed Regulus.

"A bit," admitted Severus. "She worries about him enough already. But, truth be told, I'm glad he's a parselmouth, I was getting worried he might be a squib – he still haven't shown any indication of accidental magic. I know, he's only three, so it's a bit early to think that, but Jimmy did plenty at his age. I know, I know, every child is different, but still, I'm glad to have it settled."

Regulus frowned. "Wouldn't it be better to tell Lily then, so she would stop worrying about it as well?"

"Oh, Lily's not worrying about _it_ yet, and him being a parselmouth would only bring her more worry – besides, I'm sure he will do something magical soon enough."

"As you wish." Regulus was a bit sceptical, but he didn't press the matter – it was Severus's business after all. "But about that other thing-"

"I'm sure I'm just overreacting. But still, is there any way to check if he-"

"Only by observation and conversation, but I don't think it is effective with such a young boy. I'll ask, though."

"And thank you again," said Severus seriously. "I'm glad I talked to you."

"You're welcome. Is there anything else that troubles you, or that you'd just want to talk about?"

"No, no," said Severus. "Or... No, it's nothing"

"Severus?"

"It's just..." Severus sighed. "There is one more thing."

"Well?" asked Regulus, when Severus showed no inclination to continue.

"Tommy's very affectionate, isn't he? said Severus finally, something odd in his voice audible once again. "He cuddles all the time, always very happy to see anyone, always wants to spend time with guests – especially Sirius, Remus and you..."

"And just what is weird or worrisome about that?" Regulus was a bit confused.

"About that? Nothing. But..." Severus trailed off.

"Yes?"

"He never wants to hug _me_, never wants to voluntarily spend time with me – or any-" his voice broke. "Or anything. And I don't know what I did _wrong_!" It looked like even talking about it brought Severus pain. "What did I doto make my _three year old_ son dislike me so? I love both my boys equally, and I try to treat them equally as well. I just don't understand – what did I _do_?" He buried his face in his hands.

xxx

Harry never intended to live after killing little Tom Marvolo Riddle – but when ever have everything gone exactly as he had planned? He didn't complain this time, though – he loved his new life. Finally, for the first time since he was fifteen month old for the first time, he truly had a family to which he _belonged_. And, he surely would be the happiest boy in the world, he really _would _be, if not for the few things.

Firstly, he felt as if he had cheated his way into the family. Because he wasn't the boy they thought he was. He was not their little _Tommy_ (Oh, how he hated this name – the irony of fate, honestly! And couldn't his parents have picked _any_ other name? Even Severus or Lucius or Draco would be preferable, really. Maybe not Peter, but... On the second thought, yes, he still would rather be called Peter than Tom. Everything has got to be better than _that_.), oh no – how could he be an innocent three year old boy, when he had a memory of almost eighteen year old _man_ who went through so much? But he just could not bear the thought of being alone, especially not when such an opportunity had presented itself to him. Besides, what else could he do? Try to explain everything the moment he learned to talk (He _so_ could see their faces, it would be comical, really – but they wouldn't want him then, they would just left him like the freak he truly was.)? Or later – and just when would be the best time for it? Like they would believe him anyway. All right, so he could tell them things that would _make _them believe, but still. He wanted the chance to be a child, hell, he _was_ a child – the only difference was his adult memory. It did not make him want the things other children wanted any less. So, he deceived them – so he was deceiving them every second of the day, each day. His whole existence was a lie – if only they knew, he would not be able to have any of it. He would never be able to 'be' a normal child.

Secondly, this world was, for lack of a better world, _weird_. The only thing normal, the only thing he would expect of it – was the presence of his Mum. And he loved her to pieces. He tried to spend as much time with her as he could, but, unfortunately, she worked a lot, so he didn't see her as often as he would like. The only other thing that didn't seem to change too much was the person of his godfather – that is, it was still Sirius Black. Of course, he was a completely different person than in his old world – here, everyone seemed so _innocent _and _carefree_ in comparison. Well, no wonder, after all this world have never seen the threat of Voldemort, but it was a bit weird to see nevertheless. But, Sirius here not only seemed more innocent – he also seemed more grown up. And, well, serious. And he was friends with _Snape_, of all people. Which brought him to things that varied more from his old world. Like, Snape. Of course he had known that the man was his father – well, he had known since the day of the Final Battle, at least – his insides clenched painfully at the mere thought of it – but still, for some reason, he would rather expect to be raised up by James Potter, like it would happen in his old world if not for the Trelawney's prophecy. But no, of course not – James Potter didn't even _exist _in this world. Instead, there was Emma Potter – or rather now, Emma Black, Sirius Black's wife, Harry's – excuse me, Tommy's – godmother. _What the hell._

Anyway, Snape. _That_ was en enigma. The man differed so much from the one he had once known that it was scary. And it made him think about the night he died – then, Snape was also far from normal. Well, far far far further from normal, but still. And his death – he didn't claim the responsibility for his death, he was sure that Voldemort would kill him anyway, but if not for Harry, he would have done it differently... Less cruelly. Because of that, Harry couldn't help but feel tremendously guilty whenever he saw his father. And he felt that the man just _should_ hate him – it would be only normal if he did, after all, didn't he hate him all their previous lives? Even after learning that he was Harry's father (How Harry _resented _him for that! But he didn't truly hate him, after all the man _was_ on their side despite despising Harry, and Harry didn't want him dead – especially not like _this_) – so it was not only because of James Potter. Now, Harry half expected Snape to finally stop acting so _fatherly_ and just decide he did not want to do anything with Harry. And Harry felt even more guilty for allowing him to think he was just Tommy – if Snape knew (What if he would use legilimency on Tommy? But Harry tried not to think about it too much, Snape wouldn't try to read a mind of a child, would he?), of all people he was the one that, as Harry thought, would be the most likely to hate him forever. And fairly so.

Of course, Harry knew, that _this _Snape had a better life than the one he had known in his old life. The mere atmosphere at school (and in the whole wizarding world!) during _Tommy's_ parents' Hogwarts years must have been very much different without the threat of Voldemort. There were also no Death Eaters – or 'Death Eaters in training'. Even though the prejudice against Muggleborns still existed, as far as Harry knew it was not as prominent, and Slytherin, even though still disliked, did not seem to be as hated. And there were no Marauders. From what Harry had gathered, his Mum and father stayed friends thorough all seven years of school and Lily introduced Severus to Remus and Sirius. Without James Potter, Sirius still became friends with Remus (Harry did not know anything about Peter Pettigrew, but, truthfully, he didn't care.) – who, who would have guessed, was not even a werewolf, as Tommy learned when he once asked him about full moons – and they made friends with Lily, and, consequently, also with Snape, as this time around these two never tried to hide their friendship and were inseparable.

So, it really was no wonder that this Snape, who at Hogwarts had a few very good friends (and never has been bullied there, as far as Harry knew), married the love of his life soon after school instead of grieving her till his death and never had to serve any evil dark lords and do evil deeds or fear for his life (Neither did he have to work as a teacher, it must have counted for something! Besides, he was eight years younger than when Harry first met him in the other world) was a different man. A _happier _one. But still, Harry couldn't come to terms with this smiling, nice, _fatherly_ Snape. The one who seemed to genuinely care for his children – even Tommy. The one who really acted like a _Dad_ should. It all seemed _wrong_, somehow – especially since Harry had _cheated_. And too good to be true. And Harry didn't want to be disappointed.

Another new thing in this life was the fact that he now had a brother. An older one, at that (And his name was _James_ – irony of fate strikes again! If the other Snape would somehow see how his equivalent in this world named his offspring – or both of them, really, Harry somehow doubted that his old Potion's teacher would like to name a child after Voldemort – he would be rolling in his grave.). In the other world, Harry had always wished he would have a sibling – so he was really happy when he found out that in this life he had. But it didn't change the fact that it was awfully weird to have an older brother who mentally was much younger than him. Even weirder was the fact that his parents were now twenty-three – so only about five years older than him when he, for lack of a better word, left the other world. And when he was born, the difference was only two years (They were then as old as the Weasley twins!) – how odd was that? So he tried not to think about it too much.

The weirdest thing of all was, however, something that did not have anything to do with other people. This whole world seemed to act differently, operate on a different set of rules – or maybe it was Harry who had changed? He was not sure. But the facts remained – he now was seeing things that should not exist – and no-one else seemed to see them, which was even more worrying. After three years Harry almost got used to this, but it was still a bit unsettling. Mostly, he would see strange creatures that he never had suspected of existing. And the ones he saw the most often seemed to be, from what he remembered Luna Lovegood saying, Wrackspurts. He wasn't sure if he even wanted to know whether they were real or just a figment of his imagination created from his memory of Luna – maybe he really was going crazy?

Another thing in this world that lessened his happiness somewhat was the fact that now, being a small child and all that, he could not even see his friends. And they were the ones he missed the most, the ones for whom he went back in time for – he had wanted _Ginny_, Ron, Hermione, Luna, Neville and many others to live and be happy again. Now, what with the lack of James Potter's existence, he wasn't even sure if they were alive. And if they were, he desperately wanted to meet them again. But, on the other hand, he realized that it would not be exactly the same, it couldn't be – they did not know him and probably were not even the same people he met there. And even if they would be the same as when he met them (Harry had the most hopes about Hermione – as she did not have any contact with the wizarding world before receiving her Hogwarts letter, how could lack of Voldemort affect her?), they would not have the experience that morphed them into the people they were when they died. And he was not, after all, the person _they _met for the first time. Not only did he have a very different home life, he also had memories of an eighteen year old! So mentally he would be much older than them – what if he would be too mature for them? Would they be able to become friends again? Harry hoped so.

With his eighteen year old memories came also another burden – nightmares. Nightmares of horrible things, things that no three years old should ever be forced to see. What's worse, they were not just _dreams_ – it was always things that really happened in that other world, so far away from this one, and yet so close.

And the absolutely worst part was, he couldn't even talk to _anyone_ about any of this.


	3. The Nightmare

**Disclaimer: I do not own _Harry Potter_, obviously.**

**A/N: I am terribly sorry for the long wait! The worst thing is, I had this chapter almost done about a week after I posted the last one, but I was stuck on just one sentence that simply didn't want to sound right (Yes, I'm a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to writing). I'm still not completely satisfied with that sentence, but it will have to do for now. Again, I'm sorry! I hope the next chapter will be up much sooner, not sure when will it be, but not earlier than the first weekend of October, I think. Hopefully I won't get stuck on anything again!**

**And again, I would like to thank everybody who took time to read what I've written! And people who added the story to story alerts/favorites – thank you very much! And thank you very, very much for all the reviews! I'm really glad people have been enjoying this story so far, I hope I won't disappoint you. Special thanks again to amortencja who yelled at me two days ago (well, used Caps Lock at me) which made me finally get on with this story...**

**If you see any typos/grammar mistakes/etc. please let me know!**

**Also, this chapter contains the mentions of torture I had warned against.**

**The sentences marked with * are direct quotes from J.K. Rowling's _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows._**

oxo

**Chapter Two:**** The Nightmare**

_**Saturday, 18th February 1984, Ministry of Magic, London**_

_**Around 7PM**_

Lily brushed away a stubborn strand of hair that had escaped her ponytail and kept falling into her eyes. She sighed tiredly, but could not keep from smiling. It was a hard day at work, but finally she was going home to her boys. She hated working on Saturdays, but, unfortunately, when you worked in the Department of Mysteries, sometimes it was necessary. The secrecy was valued here more than in any other Department and working on some important projects while the rest of the Ministry was almost completely empty certainly helped in keeping things secret.

She went to the toilet – she hated apparating with the full bladder. After having relieved herself, she brushed her hair in front of the mirror.

"You look horrible today," it said.

"Why, thank you," answered Lily dryly. She smirked, turned on the tap and splattered some water over the mirror. "You too."

"Hey!" it shouted indignantly at her, but Lily ignored it and walked out of the toilet. She went back to her desk and started packing her bag.

"Unspeakable Snape," she heard the Head of the Department speak from right behind her. She started. Why did he always have to sneak up on her? She has never met anyone who could walk as silently as him. "I need to speak with you."

"Yes, sir," she said with a sinking feeling. Her boss wanted to talk to her after hours? It did not bode well. She tried to look around discretely, wondering if anyone else was around.

"Don't worry, we are alone here," he said. "Every other Unspeakable apparated home already. But you lingered. Did you have a _feeling_?" he asked.

"No, sir," Lily shook his head, wondering what sort of feeling could he mean. He was a weird man, she understood that a long time ago. And the most secretive one – none of the Unspeakables even knew his name.

"Pity," he sighed. "I had hopes. But no matter, no matter. I understand that you have visited Hall of Prophecy several times, am I correct?"

"Yes, sir." Where was he going with this?

"Are you familiar with a row number 97?"

"I don't think I know anything particular about that row," she replied carefully.

"Very well," he said, smiling slightly. "As you have been working with us loyally for this past three years, I may inform you now that down that row there is a prophecy concerning one of the members of your family. Tom Snape, I believe, is your younger son?"

"Yes", answered Lily, stunned. "But... How? I mean, he's only a boy-"

"Don't make me disappointed in you, Unspeakable Snape," he cut her off sternly. "You're an intelligent woman, you know it doesn't matter."

ooo

_**Saturday, 2nd May 1998, Hogwarts**_

_**Around 2AM**_

When Harry entered the Headmaster's Office, he immediately realized that his hopes of talking to Dumbledore's portrait were futile. All headmasters and headmistresses had left their frames, even him. The office seemed so empty, now. Harry sighed sadly. He turned back to exit, not wanting to linger there, but something on the headmaster's desk caught the corner of his eye.

The Pensieve.

It must have been Snape (That cowardly traitor! Just thinking about him made his blood boil.) who had left it there – maybe it contained some valuable information on Voldemort and his forces?

He hesitated, remembering what happened the last time when he took a look into Snape's memories, but he couldn't just walk away – what if there really was something important in there?

Besides, he doubted that anything could be worse than his own thoughts at the moment – so many people have died, all because of him. Fred... Remus... Tonks...

So Harry dived.

xxx

_**Wednesday, 2nd May 1984, Home**_

_**Around 2AM**_

Tommy whimpered softly in his sleep. He was dreaming about the night of the Battle of Hogwarts. How after Voldemort had given them an hour without fighting, a time for Harry to give himself up, he went into the Pensieve containing Snape's memories... What he saw in there...

-_You are a witch. I've been watching you for a while. But there's nothing wrong with that. My mum's one, and I'm a wizard._*-

-_It doesn't make any difference._*-

-_you think I want to be a – a freak?*_-

-_I didn't mean – I just don't want to see you made a fool of – He fancies you, James Potter fancies you!_*-

-_It's too late. I've made excuses for you for years. None of my friends can understand why I even talk to you. You and your precious little Death Eater friends – you see, you don't even deny it! You __don't even deny that's what you're all aiming to be! You can't wait to join You-Know-Who, can you_?*-

-_I just wanted to talk to you one last time_-

-_Severus... I..._-

-_You disgust me. You do not care, then, about the deaths of her husband and child? They can die, as long as you have what you want?*_-

-_You know how and why she died. Make sure it was not in vain. Help me protect Lily's son.*_-

-_mediocre, arrogant as his father, a determined rule-breaker, delighted to find himself famous, attention-seeking and impertinent_*-

-_You are a braver man by far than Igor Karkaroff._*-

-_You must kill me._*-

-_Headmaster, this is ridiculous, I cannot be the boy's father!_-

-_So the boy…the boy must die?_*-

-_Have you grown to care for the boy, after all?_*-

-_I hold no love for him_-

-_It should ensure your son's safety_-

-_He is no son of mine_-

-_I am counting upon you to remain in Lord Voldemort's good books as long as possible, or Hogwarts will be left to the mercy of the Carrows…_*-

Tommy tossed and turned, but there was no escaping his dream.

xxx

_**Saturday, 2nd May 1998, The Forbidden Forest**_

_**Around 3AM**_

And so Harry stood there, his thoughts in turmoil, waiting for the spell that would end his life. His eyes flickered toward Snape, standing calmly beside Voldemort. How could he stand there just like _that_, like it was nothing, like it didn't matter to him that his own _son_ was about to _die_? How could this man be his _father_, how could he abandon him just like that? He has known that Harry was his son for almost two years and it never changed a _thing_ between them-

It hurt.

He turned his gaze back to Voldemort, their eyes meeting for a fleeting second-

Voldemort smiled a twisted smile. "I see," he said quietly. He merely snapped his fingers and, suddenly, ropes sprang out of nowhere and wrapped themselves tightly around Harry, immobilizing him. He then gestured for one of his Death Eaters to take Harry and tie him to a nearby tree.

"I'm going to do you a favour, Harry," he said softly, still smiling cruelly. "Are you in for a show, my dear boy? I hope you'll stay with us, you won't regret it, I assure you." He laughed mirthlessly, sending chills down Harry's spine. It didn't sound like he was planning a short, painless death for him. Didn't he want to end this as soon as possible, so as not to risk Harry's escaping again? Apparently not.

Harry tried to say something, but no sound escaped his mouth – Voldemort must have put _Silencio_ on him.

"Severus!"

"Yes, my Lord?"

"I've seen the most interesting thing in our dear Harry's mind, Severus. Really, you wouldn't believe. Would you care to hear it?" Something cold and heavy settled itself in Harry's stomach. _Oh, no. Please, no._

"I'm all- all ears, my Lord," said Snape, unable to stop his voice from breaking a little.

"Well, well, well, if you insist. It seems that Harry here is rather _displeased_ with his father. Would you know, why is that so, Severus?"

"No- No, my Lord."

"That's strange." Voldemort put on a mock thoughtful expression. "I would think that you, of all people, would know it best."

And then, there were ropes wrapped around Snape's body, too, and Voldemort's cold, mirthless laugh ringing in Harry's ears again.

He turned to his other Death Eaters. "Let it be a lesson, my faithful Death Eaters, of how Lord Voldemort _rewards_ those who dare to betray him." He seemed to be assessing them all for a moment. "Bellatrix, Antonin – take care of Severus. You don't need to restrain yourself, just don't kill him," he said finally, curling his lips in a twisted smile. "For now."

"Thank you, Master!" said Bellatrix eagerly, while Dolohov just inclined his head with a calm "Yes, my Lord."

"As for the rest of you – it's time to rejoin the battle, the hour is up. And you, Harry – you may watch your detestable _father's_ pain to your heart's content. It is my gift to you, the last pleasure of the dying. Enjoy. You have two hours."

xxx

_**Wednesday, 2nd May 1984, Home**_

_**Around 2AM**_

In his dream, Harry revived the most horrible two hours of his life. To watch someone – and not just anyone, it was his _father _there, no matter how much he wanted to deny it – in tremendous pain, inflicted because of _him_, because he was so stupid as to never learn Occlumency, as to look Voldemort in the eye, knowing that his mind was open to him – to watch it all, not being able to _do_ anything, all the while being also aware that other people could be _dying_ at the very moment... To watch a strong, brave man who never dared to show his emotions slowly being reduced to a sobbing mess, to something less than _human_, to watch his dignity and _sanity _being torn away, and hear Bellatrix's cold, cruel laugh...

xxx

_**Saturday, 2nd May 1998, The Forbidden Forest**_

_**Around 5AM**_

Harry has never thought he would ever want to see Voldemort, but there he was, tied to a tree, fighting waves of nausea at the scenes happening before his very eyes, silently _pleading_ for the Dark Lord to come and end it all.

And, _finally_, he came back. He came back, gestured Bellatrix and Dolohov to step aside and approached Snape.

And Snape was still whimpering in pain, like an animal, not aware that the pain has stopped, not aware of _anything_.

Voldemort looked at Snape, distaste apparent in his eyes. "Oh my, Severus, you smell something _terrible_," he said, a trace of amusement audible in his voice, eyes drifting to a spot on Snape's robes where the man – no, he was no longer a man, his humanity had been stripped off of him before it happened – pissed himself. He turned his attention to Harry. "How did you like the show, my boy? Was it not satisfying to you to see a man who has abandoned you, let's not even call him your father, getting what he deserved?" He laughed mirthlessly. "Oh, my bad," he said, when Harry didn't respond. "I forgot about this little inconvenience." He snapped his fingers. "You may speak now, Harry."

Harry did not say a word.

"No? Very well," said Voldemort. "But tell me, what do you want me to do with this piece of _dirt_? Would you like my faithful Death Eaters to have some more fun, or would you rather I killed him? The choice is up to you, I won't kill him before you tell me to, it _is _your _father_, after all."

They both knew that Snape's mind was as damaged as the minds of Neville's parents. There was no healing for Snape, the only thing that life could bring him was even more _pain_.

Harry didn't think he could stand this any longer.

"Tell me, Harry, what do you want me to do with him?" said Voldemort softly, his voice barely audible.

The leaves rustled in the wind. The darkness was lessening with every minute, the sun was already rising. Birds had started their morning song a while ago.

Who knew what monsters lurked behind the trees of the Forbidden Forest.

Harry knew there was only one thing he could do.

"Kill him," he whispered, his insides clenching painfully.

xxx

_**Wednesday, 2nd May 1984, Home**_

_**Around 2AM**_

It was a soft knocking on his and Lily's bedroom's door that woke Severus up – like it had happened on many nights before this one, whenever Jimmy couldn't sleep. Severus has always been a lighter sleeper than his wife, so usually he was the one to calm down their distressed son at such times.

"Come in," he said softly, not wanting to raise Lily, but loud enough for the boy to hear.

The boy opened the door slowly, as if unsure whether he really was allowed inside.

But this time it was not Jimmy who came to seek comfort from his parents.

In came Tommy, and stood there awkwardly, not sure how to act.

"Tommy?" Severus propped himself up on his elbow. "Come here, love," he said gently.

The boy took a few hesitant step towards the bed. When he stood close to it, Severus saw that Tommy's face was streaked with tears.

"What happened, child?" he asked softly, concerned. Tommy very rarely – almost never – cried.

Tommy bit his lip. "I- I had a bad dream," he whispered.

"Do you want to lay with us, sunshine?" Severus patted the space on the bed between him and Lily.

"I- I might," the child whispered after a moment's hesitation and, prompted by Severus, hesitantly crawled onto the bed between his parents.

Severus rolled over onto his other side to face him. "Now, child," he said gently, concern evident in his voice. "Would you like to tell me about your dream?"

Tommy started to shake his head no, but caught himself. "I don't know," he whispered instead. "May I- may I just stay with you for a while?"

"Of course, child." He stroked his son's hair gently. Tommy closed his eyes.

There was a long silence.

"You died," whispered Tommy hardly moving his lips, his words barely audible.

But Severus heard him anyway. "You dreamt about me dying?" He wasn't sure how he felt about this – did it mean that, after all, his younger son _did_ care about him? He was strangely moved.

Tommy slightly nodded his head, eyes still closed. "But it wasn't just- just death..." He sounded almost as if he was in pain, and he was speaking so softly that Severus had to strain his ears to hear him. Tommy opened his eyes and looked at his father, his sad, serious expression hardly fitting a child's face. "And it wasn't just a dream..."

"What do you mean?" asked Severus, not knowing what to think.

Tommy closed his eyes again. "Nothing, nothing..." he whispered. Another long silence followed. "Dad?" whispered Tommy finally.

"Yes, child?"

"I just... No, nothing..." They laid silently for another couple of minutes. Severus started drifting back to sleep against his will, but still, he managed to catch his son's next words.

"I'm sorry," whispered the child.

Severus forced himself to open his eyes. "What are you sorry for, Tommy?" he asked gently, noticing with concern that his boy's cheeks were again wet with tears. It wasn't always _easy_ to deal with Jimmy, especially when Severus was sleepy, but dealing with Tommy... The boy was so closed off... If you can say that about a boy who is not even four.

"It was my fault." The tone of his voice was heartbreaking.

"Tommy, child-"

"There was Voldemort, you know?"

Severus was confused. And it was too late of an hour to think. "What?..."

"Who, you mean. _Lord_ Voldemort, though he was no lord. Tom Marvolo Riddle. You named me after him, you know."

"We never-"

"He has red eyes and is the Heir of the Slytherin. He is _evil._ He has his Death Eaters. And he _killed_ you." There was something alarming about the way he spoke – and what's worse, Severus had no idea _what_ exactly he was talking about.

"Tommy, love, it was only a bad dream-"

Tommy sat straight up in bed. "No, it wasn't, and you'll never know it." He looked close to tears now. How do you explain to a child that what he has seen in a dream is not _real_? "You'll never know it, because you aren't _you_. And he wouldn't- wouldn't _know_, it wouldn't _happen_, if not for m-m-me." Tommy's lip trembled and his voice started to break. _You aren't you_? What on Earth could he mean by _that_? "And he made me- he made me- _say_ it, I had to, I'm sorry, Dad, I'm so sorry." Tears swelling in his eyes started to roll down his cheeks. "Do you- do you _hate_ me?"

"Tommy, child, I could _never_ hate you," said Severus softly, his voice full of emotion. "_Why_ would you think I do?"

"I don't- you just- you just _should_, I'm just..." Tommy trailed off.

Severus sat up fully. "You're just what?" he asked gently. He hugged his boy close to him. Tommy stiffened up a little, but relaxed after a moment. "I love you very, very much, child," Severus whispered. "And it will _never_ change, no matter what, remember that."

"But what if I- if I'm _bad_?" asked Tommy, his voice muffled up a bit by Severus' pyjama shirt. "What if I'm just a _liar_?"

Severus loosened the embrace so he could see his son's face, his hands on his boy's shoulders. He looked at him seriously. "You _aren't_ bad, son."

Tommy looked down, but didn't respond.

xxx

There was _no use _talking to him, Harry did know that. It has never been more evident that _professor _Snape (Not that he has ever used that word when speaking about him, even when talking with Dumblerore...) and his _Dad_ were not the same person. But Harry just felt so _guilty_, and it was just so terrible, so _scary_, and he couldn't stand the sight of Snape like he was just before his death – it was no way to die, no way to die – and for what? Just because Harry was an arrogant, thoughtless_ idiot._

Harry wanted to see him so much, to wash that horrible sight away from his eyes, to make sure that Snape was all right _now_, in this life, to apologize to him, even though he couldn't know what Tommy was apologizing for-

And he just wanted to be with his Dad, to talk with him, to _hug _him even – but he was too scared. He has always been afraid that Snape was going to push him away, even though the man hugged him countless times and it has never seemed forced or insincere in any way.

And this Snape didn't _understand _anything, he didn't _know – _how could he _not_ know? Harry did go back in time just so everyone could _live_ happily, not knowing anything about Voldemort – it was a great thing that they didn't have to go through all this, but now, keeping something like this secret from everyone, he felt a bit lonely. And it _was_ weird to see Snape, of all people, confused by Voldemort's name.

Harry desperately wanted Snape to forgive him, but this was _not_ the way – was there even a way? Probably not without exposing himself for who he really was, not without admitting what a _liar _he was_ – _not without losing his family. Besides, _this_ Snape's forgiveness would be simply worthless – he knew that, yes. But it did not stop him from craving it.

The thing that hurt him the most when he learned that Snape was his father was the fact that the man did not accept him, did not want him at all – it was like the Dursleys all over again. _This_ Snape seemed so accepting (Well, he didn't know the truth – if he did, it would have been a whole different story, Harry was sure of that.) that it should not matter to him much.

But it _did_.

Hearing his Dad telling him that he would love him no matter what must have been the greatest thing he has ever heard, even though it _might_ not have been true.

But maybe he should believe that, after all, it just might have been _true_, too.

And, as much as he wanted to deny the fact, during this three – almost four – years of living with him Harry has grown to care for this man – his father, his _Dad_ – very much. And, despite Tommy's continuing aloofness towards him, Snape _still_ treated him just the same.

Like a son he really did care for, a son he loved.

It must have counted for something, right?

And so, heart in his throat, Harry finally spoke.

xxx

"Dad?" came a quiet voice of a child. "Can I... May I... stay?" It saddened Severus, how nervous his child still seemed to feel. Did Tommy think he would kick him out of the room? Would his son _ever_ be at ease around him? "I don't want to... be alone..." added Tommy, his voice barely audible.

"Of course, sunshine," said Severus softly. "Can you go to sleep now, or would you like to talk about your dream some more?" he asked tentatively. A sudden idea hit him. "Or," he smiled slightly, "we could get you some cocoa?"

Tommy shook his head. "Just sleep," he whispered. Casting a glance at Severus, as if to check if he really was allowed, he got comfy in bed and closed his eyes.

His poor, troubled, precious child. "Good night, Tommy," said Severus quietly and kissed his little son's forehead.

"Good night, Dad," the boy whispered back.

Silence. Severus felt so tired – he was glad that Tommy opted for sleep. He didn't think he could manage to stay awake all night if the child wouldn't be able to go back to sleep or would be too afraid of nightmares to do so.

But still, he was glad that Tommy came. That, for the first time ever, he sought comfort from _him._

Severus knew that there were some things which Tommy said that he should think about – and some things he should have told his boy – but he _really_ was too tired to even think properly.

And then, Tommy snuggled up to him. "I love you, Dad".


End file.
